


What I Know You By

by shriketrek



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Minor Character Death, Stilinski Family Feels, mentions of Claudia's illness, other characters mentioned briefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 23:22:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1666271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shriketrek/pseuds/shriketrek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In first grade, he decided he wanted to be called Stiles. All the kids at school were happy for something they could wrap their tongues around a little better. He let his parents continue using his real name, and it made him feel—not the mortification he felt on the first day of school, not resentment—a bloom of warmth, maybe, when he heard his mother’s voice form the difficult series of articulations with familiarity, or his father’s, strong and easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What I Know You By

Stiles doesn’t hate his name.

Sure, when he was a kid he threw tantrums, screamed as fat tears wet his cheeks that it wasn’t a _real name_ , not like Scott or Danny or Eric or Michael. He kicked his feet and wailed, indignant over what he perceived to be a made-up name. He came home from his first day of kindergarten with his face burning and breath hitching, humiliated, insisting that his mommy and daddy let him change it. He was partial to Ryan.

Claudia sat him down and explained that he was named after _her_ daddy, who was from the Czech Republic— _a country in Europe, sweetheart_ —and that in the Czech Republic, they spoke a different language and had different names. She told him that his grandfather was a very good man who would have loved him very much, and that it was important to know and respect your heritage.

She finished, looked at him expectantly, and watched as his tiny face screwed up and a fresh batch of tears burst forth.

“The other kids can’t _say it_!” he sobbed. “ _Miss Hiller can’t even say it_!”

“Oh, honey,” she said, picking him up and cradling him to her chest, murmuring his name into his ear as he cried into the bare skin above his collarbone.

“See?” she asked minutes later when he had calmed down a little, sniffling and scrubbing at his eyes. “See, my love? Your name is a part of who you are. It’s what your mama knows you by.”

In first grade, he decided he wanted to be called Stiles. All the kids at school were happy for something they could wrap their tongues around a little better. He let his parents continue using his real name, and it made him feel—not the mortification he felt on the first day of school, not resentment—a bloom of warmth, maybe, when he heard his mother’s voice form the difficult series of articulations with familiarity, or his father’s, strong and easy.

They called him Stiles only sometimes, like when other kids came over to play.

Claudia’s condition began to deteriorate when Stiles was still in first grade, but it wasn’t until nearly the end that she forgot who he was for the first time. She called him all sorts of names that weren’t his in the last months before she died, but that night—when his dad was at work and he was at the hospital, in her room, where she looked small and tired against the pillows that the nurses were always fluffing—that night, she got it right. She determinedly pronounced his name in a thin voice, didn’t let it get slurred like most everything else she said. “I love you,” she whispered next. It was the last thing she said, but she didn’t pass until several hours later. Stiles remembers holding her hand, watching her as she drifted in and out of consciousness, talking to her and asking her questions, hoping she would respond.

His dad didn’t stop using his real name right away, had different ways to grieve, different things to shy away from now that his wife was gone.

But over time, ‘Stiles’ became the name everyone knew him by.

He knows what his mom meant now— _your name is a part of who you are_ , she said—and he feels that. He’s Stiles, but he is also his other name, his real name. He holds it within himself, keeps it close to him—a cherished possession. He can hear it in his dad’s voice even though it’s been years, and he can hear it in his mom’s voice, too, though he’s not sure how real the memory is.

He replays it in his head sometimes all the same.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty tired right now so I hope this is actually an okay piece of writing. Maybe I'll come back and proofread later? I was just too excited to post it.
> 
> The third chapter of Things I Want to Say (But Don't) is underway, if you're wondering.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


End file.
